sitting in the present.

Peaceful thoughts, slow breathing.

A calm breeze drifts through the windows. A summer smell greets me; lemon, a hint of paint, a subtle remnant of blueberry pancakes, freshly brewed coffee. Little versions of home, sunshine on the floor to light up the room. Love in the living room, solitude in the kitchen.

Order, cleanliness and order without regiment, home.

Memories, bent over laughing near the stove, meal after meal, cup after cup of coffee, tea, warming our hands and growing apart, wrapped in blankets, summer dresses and a pile of beer caps, a bowl of spaghetti and a bag of chocolate.

A vase of dead flowers, the petals strewn about and it is poetry, withered and beautiful. I cannot bring myself to throw them away so I clean around them, a friendship preserved in petals.

Time pauses before swirling around my head, the room explodes in light and for once, the past is quiet.